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Summary
Summary
An explosion rips through New York City's Grand Central Station one morning, destroying the train Karen Friedman's husband, a successful hedge fund manager, is riding in to work. Days later, with many bodies still unidentifiable, Karen resigns herself to the awful truth: her husband of eighteen years is dead.
On that same day, a suspicious hit-and-run accident leaves a young man dead in Karen's hometown of Greenwich, Connecticut. Ty Hauck, a detective, becomes emotionally caught up in the case and finds a clue that shockingly connects the two seemingly unrelated events.
Months later, two men show up at Karen's home digging into Charles's business dealings. Hundreds of millions of dollars are missing--and the trail points squarely to Charles. With doubt suddenly cast on everything she has ever known, Karen, with Hauck, steps into a widening storm of hedge fund losses, international scams, and murder. And as the investigations converge, these two strangers touched by tragedy are pulled into a deepening relationship and unwittingly open the door to a twisted--and deadly--conspiracy.
With its breakneck pacing, plentiful twists, compelling characters, and abundant heart, The Dark Tide confirms Andrew Gross's place as a master storyteller at the top of his game.
Author Notes
Andrew Gross was born in 1952 in New York City. He grew up in Manhattan and attended the Barnard School for Boys. Both his father and grandfather were successful clothing manufacturers; they ran the Leslie Fay Companies. Gross received a degree in English from Middlebury College in 1974. In 1982, he received a Masters in Business from Columbia University. He attended the Writers Program at the University of Iowa.
The draft of his first book Hydra, a political thriller, was completed in 1998. After dozens of rejections from agents and ultimately publishers he received a phone call from James Patterson. Gross met with Patterson and discussed the early concepts for what ultimately became the Women's Murder Club series. Gross worked with Patterson on several books in this series, including Second Chance and Third Degree, both of which were bestsellers. Then, they branched out on different themes together, co-authoring the bestsellers, The Jester, Lifeguard, and Judge and Jury.
In pursuing his solo career, Gross wrote such works as The Blue Zone, which debuted on the New York Times bestseller list in the United States. A year later, It was followed up by The Dark Tide ( 2007), which was nominated for Thriller of the Year by the International Thriller Writers Association. The Dark Tide featured the Gross fictional detective Ty Hauck of Greenwich, Connecticut, who became the lead character in his corruption and political conspiracy-based bestsellers Don't Look Twice and Reckless. His titles 12 Seconds and Everything to Lose also made the New York Times bestseller list. The One Man was published in August 2016. His latest bestseller is The Saboteur.
(Bowker Author Biography)
Reviews (3)
Publisher's Weekly Review
Gross, who's partnered with James Patterson on a number of bestsellers (Lifeguard, etc.), mixes murder, suspense, sex and romance as capably as his mentor in his assured second solo thriller (after The Blue Zone). Charles Friedman, a New York hedge fund trader, perishes in a bombing at Grand Central Station that destroys the railroad car in which he was riding one morning from his home in Greenwich, Conn. Ty Hauck, head of the Greenwich police's violent crime unit, enters the picture when a hit-and-run victim turns out to have a vague connection to Friedman. Soon, Friedman's widow and her kids are threatened by men searching for vast sums of money her late husband never earned. The stakes rise as Hauck's involvement shifts from professional to personal. While the reader will occasionally see the next drop, tunnel or curve looming far ahead, the roller-coaster thrills are still there in abundance. (Mar.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Booklist Review
The second solo novel from frequent James Patterson cowriter Gross is much better than his first. This one begins with a bang, as a bomb explodes in a commuter train station, killing several people, including New York City hedge-fund manager Charles Friedman. At roughly the same time, a suspicious auto accident kills a young man in Greenwich, Connecticut. The detective on that case, Ty Hauck, soon discovers an odd connection between the hit-and-run and the bombing. He investigates and discovers that Charles Friedman was not the man he appeared to be. He also forges a connection with the dead man's wife, Karen, that leads him into uncharted waters. This is a tightly written corporate-style thriller very much in the mold of Joseph Finder, with a likable protagonist and a story that combines traditional thriller elements with a more gentle, emotional subplot.--Pitt, David Copyright 2008 Booklist
Library Journal Review
In Gross's second solo thriller (after The Blue Zone and five best sellers cowritten with James Patterson), divorced detective Ty Hauck and recently widowed mother Karen Friedman stumble into a dangerous conspiracy. Karen's hedge-fund husband, Charles, died-or so everyone presumed-in a terrorist attack in New York City's Grand Central Station. Soon after, when Karen and her children are threatened by unknown sources, she uncovers shocking details regarding her husband's business: he had lost as much as half a billion of his clients' money in questionable investments, more yet is missing from offshore accounts, and individuals once connected to him are now being killed. With Karen's help, Lieutenant Hauck follows a trail that leads to empty oil tankers with falsified manifests, hit-and-run killers, advanced government security systems, and the British Virgin Islands. Gross knows how to spin a fast-paced plot with engaging characters. Karen and Ty are forced to undergo convincing transformations as they unveil one mystery after another. Though the twists may not surprise readers, most will enjoy the ride. Recommended for public libraries.-Ron Terpening, Univ. of Arizona, Tucson (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Excerpts
Excerpts
The Dark Tide Chapter One 6:10 A.M. As the morning sun canted sharply through the bedroom window, Charles Friedman dropped the baton. He hadn't had the dream in years, yet there he was, gangly, twelve years old, running the third leg of the relay in the track meet at summer camp, the battle between the Blue and the Gray squarely on the line. The sky was a brilliant blue, the crowd jumping up and down--crew-cut, red-cheeked faces he would never see again, except here. His teammate, Kyle Bregman, running the preceding leg, was bearing down on him, holding on to a slim lead, cheeks puffing with everything he had. Reach. . . . Charles readied himself, set to take off at the touch of the baton. He felt his fingers twitch, awaiting the slap of the stick in his palm. There it was! Now! He took off. Suddenly there was a crushing groan. Charles stopped, looked down in horror. The baton lay on the ground. The Gray Team completed the exchange, sprinting past him to an improbable victory, their supporters jumping in glee. Cheers of jubilation mixed with jeers of disappointment echoed in Charles's ears. That's when he woke up. As he always did. Breathing heavily, sheets damp with sweat. Charles glanced at his hands--empty. He patted the covers as if the baton were somehow still there, after thirty years. But it was only Tobey, their white West Highland terrier, staring wide-eyed and expectantly, straddled turkey-legged on his chest. Charles let his head fall back with a sigh. He glanced at the clock: 6:10 A.M. Ten minutes before the alarm. His wife, Karen, lay curled up next to him. He hadn't slept much at all. He'd been wide awake from 3:00 to 4:00 A.M. , staring at the World's Strongest Female Championship on ESPN2 without the sound, not wanting to disturb her. Something was weighing heavily on Charles's mind. Maybe it was the large position he had taken in Canadian oil sands last Thursday and had kept through the weekend--highly risky with the price of oil leaking the other way. Or how he had bet up the six-month natural-gas contracts, at the same time going short against the one-years. Friday the energy index had continued to decline. He was scared to get out of bed, scared to look at the screen this morning and see what he'd find. Or was it Sasha? For the past ten years, Charles had run his own energy hedge fund in Manhattan, leveraged up eight to one. On the outside--his sandy brown hair, the horn-rim glasses, his bookish calm--he seemed more the estate-planner type or a tax consultant than someone whose bowels (and now his dreams as well!) attested to the fact that he was living in high-beta hell. Charles pushed himself up in his boxers and paused, elbows on knees. Tobey leaped off the bed ahead of him, scratching feverishly at the door. "Let him out." Karen stirred, rolling over, yanking the covers over her head. "You're sure?" Charles checked out the dog, ears pinned back, tail quivering, jumping on his hind legs in anticipation, as if he could turn the knob with his teeth. "You know what's going to happen." "C'mon, Charlie, it's your turn this morning. Just let the little bastard out." "Famous last words . . ." Charles got up and opened the door leading to their fenced-in half-acre yard, a block from the sound in Old Greenwich. In a flash Tobey bolted out onto the patio, his nose fixed to the scent of some unsuspecting rabbit or squirrel. Immediately the dog began his high-pitched yelp. Karen scrunched the pillow over her head and growled. "Rrrrggg . . ." That's how every day began, Charles trudging into the kitchen, turning on CNN and a pot of coffee, the dog barking outside. Then going into his study and checking the European spots online before hopping into the shower. That morning the spots didn't offer much cheer--$72.10. They had continued to decline. Charles did a quick calculation in his head. Three more contracts he'd be forced to sell out. Another couple of million--gone. It was a little after 6:00 A.M. , and he was already underwater. Outside, Tobey was in the middle of a nonstop three-minute barrage. In the shower, Charles went over his day. He had to reverse his positions. He had these oil-sand contracts to clear up, then a meeting with one of his lenders. Was it time for him to come clean? He had a transfer to make into his daughter Sam's college account; she'd be a senior at the high school in the fall. That's when it hit him. Shit! He had to take in the goddamn car this morning. The fifteen-thousand-mile service on the Merc. Karen had finally badgered him into making the appointment last week. That meant he'd have to take the train in. It would set him back a bit. He'd hoped to be at his desk by seven-thirty to deal with those positions. Now Karen would have to pick him up at the station later that afternoon. Dressed, Charles was usually in rush mode by now. The six-thirty wake-up shout to Karen, a knock on Alex's and Samantha's doors to get them rolling for school. Looking over the Wall Street Journal's headlines at the front door. This morning, thanks to the car, he had a moment to sip his coffee. They lived in a warm, refurbished Colonial on an affluent tree-lined street in the town of Old Greenwich, a block off the sound. Fully paid for, the damned thing was probably worth more than Charles's father, a tie salesman from Scranton, had earned in his entire life. Maybe he couldn't show it like some of their big-time friends in their megahomes out on North Street, but he'd done well. He'd fought to get himself into Penn from a high-school class of seven hundred, distinguished himself at the energy desk at Morgan Stanley, steered a few private clients away when he'd opened his own firm, Harbor Capital. They had the ski house in Vermont, the kids' college paid for, took fancy vacations. The Dark Tide . Copyright © by Andrew Gross. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold. Excerpted from The Dark Tide by Andrew Gross All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
